f our island. They had found us
at last, and now were about to shell us out, together with our
miserable subjects. How their heavy guns roared! Their shells came
dropping down with ruinous explosions. Then one came roaring into our
tent. There was a moment of horrible suspense. The fuse tizzed.
_Bang!_ We were blown to atoms!

I started. It had waked me,--something had. The lamp gave a sickly
light. Kit was getting up too; so was Wade. I was already on my feet,
near where we had stacked our guns.

"Did you fire a musket?" Kit demanded.

"What did you fire at?" exclaimed Wade.

Raed was rousing up; so were the sailors. I hastily disavowed any
shooting on my part.

"Well, what was _that_, then?"

"Certainly heard something," said Wade.

"I thought some of you fired," Raed observed.

They were all a little suspicious of me.

"He fired one of those muskets in his sleep!" I heard Wade whisper to
Kit as we pulled aside the flap of the tent to look out.

It was still snowing stormily. A cold, fine gust blew in our faces. A
bleak, dim light rested on the whitened earth. It was half-past two,
morning. Kit had turned back to the stack of muskets, to see if any of
them had been discharged doubtless, when like a thunder-peal came the
quick report of a cannon. It made us jump. Then in a moment we saw
_it in each other's suddenly-brightening faces_.

"The Curlew!" shouted Donovan.

Catching up our hats, and seizing each a musket, we rushed out into
the storm. A dozen of the Esquimaux had come to the doors of their
huts, jabbering. Without stopping to enlighten them, however, we
pulled up our jacket-collars, and ran off toward the shore, stumbling
over stones and blundering into holes in our headlong haste; Guard
racing ahead, barking loudly.

In less than five minutes we had passed over the intervening half
mile, and were coming out on the shore, where the snowy rocks stood
dim-white and ghostly against the wild, black ocean, tumbling in with
heavy swash and roar. So thick was the storm, and so dark was the air,
that we could scarcely see a hundred yards in any direction. Bringing
up among a lot of Husky _kayaks_ lying amid the snow, we paused to
listen. Momentarily a blaze of fire reddened the sea and the white
flakes for a second, and the sharp report of our old howitzer shook
the stormy air.

"Hurrah!" yelled Kit.

"Hurrah, hurrah!"

Crack, crack, crack, went the muskets!

"_Hurrah!_" came faintly from out